


be careful what you wish for because you might get your way

by victoriousscarf



Category: Charmed (TV 1998)
Genre: Canon Time Travel mind you, Incest, Multi, Sibling Incest, Time Travel, Unchanged Future (Charmed 1998), changed future, dark future, this is just getting started so tags tbd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-03-08 06:32:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18889105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: “I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you”― Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars(Or, there's a fair amount of Chrises and a fair amount of Wyatts but it doesn't really seem to matter which universe, or which timeline they're in. Some things change and others don't.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obstinatelybored](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinatelybored/gifts).



> *Rolls up over a decade late with Starbucks*
> 
> So during my yearly cluster headache I binge watched Charmed, which I have never seen before. Somehow I managed to deny I was in too deep with certain characters until about halfway through season 7 when Good!Wyatt suddenly showed up and since then I've given in and with an unseemly amount of encouragement and offered bribes from obstinatelybored here we freaking go. 
> 
> This is just the beginning of a fic I have spent way too much time plotting out over the last three days. The usual warning, all the tags are subject to addition and change. As are the warnings. I will update them as soon as something becomes relevant.

The thing was, Chris had never known his brother before darkness had seeped into his bones so he had never understood how far Wyatt would be willing to go. His brother had always felt _different_ from the rest of their family, had always had the taste of bitterness and the potential of violence that wasn’t how his mother and aunts felt, even when they were out hunting demons.

Wyatt never woke up one day, at fifteen, and start sprouting nonsense about power and magical supremacy. Instead it was a long slow slide into darkness and up until the end Chris had insisted to himself it wasn’t really happening.

Even looking back he couldn’t pinpoint the moment he realized things had gone too far.

It should have been when he was ten and Wyatt had just turned twelve and Wyatt started fighting with their mother and father—their father who would come down when Wyatt was pitching a fit but never when Chris screamed at the top of his lungs for him. Wyatt was starting to insist that power mattered more than morals, and it sent them into a spin. Chris sat on the top of the stairs and listened, biting his fingers and wondering why power sounded wrong in Wyatt’s mouth.

It might have been when they were even younger and Wyatt was cold compared to other children of his age, distant and cruel but he was Chris’ older brother so Chris just figured that’s what brothers were like.

As Wyatt got older the fights got louder and that was bad enough, but he started sneaking out at night too. With Paige and Phoebe living in their own places, Wyatt and Chris weren’t sharing a room anymore but somehow Chris was the only one who seemed to notice how often his brother wasn’t there. Sometimes when he was thirteen he would sleep in Wyatt’s room after a nightmare because he was never there and as far as Chris knew, never realized what his younger brother was doing.

But then Piper died and what had always been there, shimmering under the surface cracked open.

Leo disappeared entirely for a whole year, and Victor never stood a chance against Wyatt. Even when he moved into the manor to take care of the brothers, if Piper couldn’t stop her son from sneaking out to spend time with demons, Victor certainly couldn’t. Chris however, despite the hole that had been scooped inside him by his mother’s death, and the following loss of his aunts—because they didn’t go together but they might as well have—at least found happiness with his grandfather.

Victor picked up his pieces and put him back together when he was fourteen and blaming himself for everything.

But Wyatt didn’t want that help, and the fights started again, going right up until Chris turned fifteen, Wyatt not quite seventeen and Victor was diagnosed with lung cancer.

That was the moment Chris and Wyatt started fighting, the moment that Chris went from watching and fearing for his brother, to yelling at the top of his lungs at him like Wyatt might listen to him more than their father ever had.

He should have known better.

“You can’t just leave,” he said, Wyatt already halfway out the window. Chris wasn’t sure why he was going out the window, when he just as easily could have orbed.

“Why not?” Wyatt asked, leaning his back against the side of the open window, one leg still dangling out on the roof as he watched Chris. His arms were crossed over his chest and it was almost midnight.

“Because you can’t,” Chris said.

“I can’t?” Wyatt asked, one brow inching up. “Baby brother, who would stop me?”

“You should stop yourself,” Chris snapped. “Grandpa—”

“I can’t do anything for him anyway,” Wyatt shrugged, like that’s all Chris was asking for.

“You could be here for him,” Chris said. “We’re all he has left and he’s—”

Wyatt scowled. “Then you stay.”

“I am!” Chris yelled. “You should too! Where are you even going this late?” and he couldn’t help but notice Wyatt was wearing an old black leather jacket, and he looked dangerous. His brother shouldn’t have looked dangerous.

“Ah, baby brother,” and Chris scowled all the harder for the false affection in those words. “You don’t want to know.”

“Dad—” Chris started, a last-ditch effort. Leo had started coming down again, but usually only to talk to his oldest son, who sometimes lashed out in enough anger to destroy the furniture.  

“Fuck him anyway,” Wyatt spat. “What does he get to say? He’s not ever been there for us when it mattered.”

Chris wanted to say at least Leo had been there for Wyatt more than him. Instead he took a breath, and then another one. “Please don’t leave,” he said, almost a whisper and for a second he felt a flash of hope because Wyatt pulled his leg back in, rising from his seat at the window.

“I have to go,” he said and Chris felt that hope shrivel.

“Why?” he asked. “Where are you going that’s more important than your family?”

Wyatt stilled again, watching Chris. “You’re going to see one day,” he said. “That this is for our family.”

“That—we—” Christ started. “That doesn’t make sense. We’re right here. We need you to be here, to, to help us through this. How is leaving going to help us?”

“Because when I change the world you’re going to be safe,” Wyatt said, and Chris for the first time stared at him like he had never seen him before.

“Our parents couldn’t change the world,” he said. “They _tried_ and it always went _wrong_.”

“They didn’t have my power,” Wyatt said, like it was going to be that simple.

“They had the power of three,” Chris protested. “Please, I don’t need you to protect me, I need you to be here for me when I ask,” unlike anyone else in his life. Chris had never been anyone’s first choice it seemed, and when it came to his father he was pretty sure he rated behind literally the entire world. “Brother, I’m scared. I don’t want to lose grandpa too, not this soon.”

“And I can’t save him,” Wyatt said. “But I can do this.”

“We’re going to be the only ones left,” Chris said. “Doesn’t that—doesn’t that hurt you? Do you not care?”

And Wyatt leaned forward, Chris starting to back away when Wyatt caught him with his hands at Chris’ throat, pressing their dry lips together. It wasn’t much of a kiss at all, just an affirmation of something Chris wasn’t certain of. Which was why Christ later was able to pretend It never happened. Or that it meant something different from what he feared.

But at the time he froze, too surprised to react.

“I care about you,” Wyatt said. “Never doubt that.”

“Stay,” Chris said. “I want you to stay.”

“Sorry, little brother,” Wyatt said, pulling away while Chris was still confused and thrown. He went out the window, leaving Chris with his aches alone.

Later Chris would pinpoint that night as the moment he realized something had changed but at the time he pretended like his brother was just distant and emotionally incapable like he always had been. It was easier to run away from your pain and problems than it was to stay and watch their last relative waste away, getting sicker by the day.

Sometimes Chris would be sitting with Victor, playing cards or games just to take his mind off things and he would look up and see Wyatt in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame and watching them.

But he rarely stayed and Chris caught him one night with skinned knuckles and a singed jacket. “Shouldn’t you be more powerful than that?” Chris asked, barbed and Wyatt looked up.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still be surprised,” Wyatt shrugged.

“Who are you fighting?” Chris asked and Wyatt looked up, giving him a cold smile.

“Demons,” he said, like it was obvious.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Chris said. “And then what’s going to happen to me?”

“Oh don’t worry,” Wyatt said. “I’m not going to get myself killed.”

“You sure seem like you’re trying,” Chris said.

“Oh no,” Wyatt said, rising and Chris swallowed because he hadn’t noticed that Wyatt had somehow gained another several inches. “I’m not the one who’s going to get killed. Just those that stand in my way.”

“You’re not still thinking you’re going to change the world, are you?” Chris asked and Wyatt just gave him that cold smile again.

When Chris was sixteen and Wyatt seventeen, Victor died and Wyatt declared himself king of the underworld.

Somehow, despite a life time of warning signs, Chris hadn’t seen it coming.

He had just been a kid, who could have blamed him beyond himself?

But that failure would haunt him, all those nights he should have pushed harder, all those moments he should have tried to soften Wyatt’s heart and instead let it go because his brother had always been that way, hadn’t he?

Chris spent his whole life watching his brother fall and he didn’t even notice until Wyatt forced him to look.

On the day of Victor’s funeral, they moved out of the Halliwell manor, Chris closing the door with his telekinesis because it felt like the closing of a chapter. Usually he had closed the door from the inside, never from the outside.

Chris thought maybe he should run now, before it was too late.

He held the Book of Shadows under one arm as he turned to Wyatt who watched him with his arms crossed, waiting for him down at the street.

“I’m doing this to protect you,” Wyatt said.

“No, I know you better than that,” Chris said. “You’re doing this for power.”

“I can’t have multiple motivations?” Wyatt asked, still watching him calmly, like Chris coming with him was the predetermined outcome of this moment.  

“I just don’t usually rate as someone’s reason to do anything,” Chris said and Wyatt rolled his eyes.

“Ah, brother,” he sighed. “You’re being dense.”

“Really,” Chris drawled.

Instead of answering, Wyatt held his hand out and Chris paused again, looking at the house and back to his brother.

He’d lost a lot already, he couldn’t imagine losing Wyatt too, not even this stranger who now ruled the Underworld so with one arm still around the Book of Shadows he reached out with his other hand to take Wyatt’s.

He had some vaguely defined thought that maybe there was still a brother to save.

That didn’t last long.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re not expecting me to give you credit for this, are you?” Chris asked, looking around the room where they had orbed to, the rough-hewn stone of the underworld hidden behind some strange facsimile of a house. It didn’t look anything like the manor which was the only relief Chris felt as he looked around.

“No,” Wyatt said, already turning away.

“Why are we even here?” Chris asked, and that at least got Wyatt to stop and turn around. “Why would you bring me here?”

“Did you expect me to leave you behind?” Wyatt asked.

“I don’t—no,” Chris said. “But the underworld? Why are we here, why are _you_ here?”

Wyatt arched a brow at him, like he was being dense on purpose. “Don’t you already know that?”

“I know you lost your mind, I just still don’t understand why,” Chris said.

Wyatt laughed, looking away. “You’ve paid attention to our family, haven’t you?”

“Weirdly, yes,” Chris said, still standing where he had been left, holding the Book of Shadows.

“And what has all that strife and all that sacrifice ever earned the Halliwells?” Wyatt asked and Chris looked away, because he had been to all the funerals. “They die, Chris, over and over and over again.”

“So setting yourself up in a nest full of demons is your game plan to what, survival?” Chris said. “Brilliant idea. No one is a backstabber down here. I’m sure no one is going to come after your rule or anything.”

He was sixteen and Wyatt was seventeen but he didn’t feel like a child anymore and Wyatt didn’t look like one when he stared at Chris like he did now. “I’ll be too powerful for them to stop,” Wyatt said.

“Oh yeah, no one’s said something like that before,” Chris said, almost laughing. “You think, what, switching allegiance is going to change things?”

“Well nothing else has worked,” Wyatt said and turned away again.

“What about me?” Chris asked.

“What about you?” Wyatt asked, not turning around.

“Neither of us have even graduated high school,” Chris said. “We’re not legally adults. Don’t you think someone would notice if we just never show up again? I mean, what exactly are you planning on doing with me?”

“I’m going to protect you,” Wyatt said and Chris worked his jaw for a second.

“Even from social services?” Chris asked.

“Oh don’t worry about that part, I have it covered,” Wyatt said and Chris accidentally dropped the Book of Shadows as Wyatt waved a hand, a piece of paper floating down to Chris. Catching it, he could only stare at it for a moment.

“How do you have legal custody of me?” Chris asked and Wyatt just gave him a look. Chris sighed and closed his eyes, crumpling the paper up in his hands. “So did you do it yourself, or did you have your demon lawyers help you out?”

“There has to be some perks to being king,” Wyatt said, which answered that. “If you could untangle their knot you might even be able to apply for emancipated minor status but I don’t think it would change much, do you?”

Chris looked down at the crumpled page again. “Am I a prisoner here?” he asked.

“That depends on you,” Wyatt said.

“Yeah?” Chris asked. “And what am I gonna do?”

“For now you should settle in,” Wyatt said and left him there.

He closed the door and Chris didn’t bother to check and see if it was locked. Instead he smoothed out the custody papers and folded them, sticking them in the back of the Book before he carefully set it on the desk.

He looked around the room, noticed how many of his things were already there and put away and cringed. “Well as far as prison cells go it’s not terrible,” he said to himself. “Aside from the lack of sunlight anyway…”

He sat down on the bed, put his head in his hands and wondered what exactly he was going to do.

-0-

The thing was, Wyatt wasn’t that much of a stranger. Chris had never put the pieces together, the late nights, the violence, the fights, the skinned knuckles that made no sense on his self-healing brother. But the instant Wyatt pulled the curtain back and informed Chris exactly who he was, Chris was disturbed by how familiar he still was.

He was still Chris’ older brother, just with the weight of kingship behind him, and strangely it seemed like a burden his shoulders had just been waiting for.

For the first week or so he didn’t push, didn’t do much, mostly stayed curled up on the bed and grieved for everything. His aunts, his mother, his grandfather. Loss after the other, crushing down on his lungs.

But then even that exhausted him and he started pushing.

“So can I go back to school yet?”

“You don’t even like school,” Wyatt remarked and there were bruises again.

“I don’t,” Chris agreed, frowning at him. “Okay, but what is up with you lately?”

Wyatt looked over at him, arching a devastating brow.

“I mean the bruises and the cuts and shit,” Chris said. Part of him almost wondered if Wyatt had lost his healing power somehow, but that thought was terrifying. He wasn’t sure what it would mean if it was true.

“It’s to prove a point,” Wyatt said and Chris gave him a disbelieving look.

“Demons prefer strength to weakness,” Chris said. “I don’t see how not healing yourself would impress them. Sorta think it would go the other way.”

“So they realize it doesn’t matter what they throw at me,” Wyatt said. “Nothing can stop me.”

Chris bit his lip and looked down. “And is that true? Can anything stop you?”

“Scared, little brother?” Wyatt asked.

“Well you did drag me down here like a trophy,” Chris said and something went strange on Wyatt’s face. “So if you do die I don’t see myself making it out of here.”

“Don’t worry,” Wyatt said, folding his arms over his chest. “They won’t be able to defeat me.”

“So am I a trophy?” Chris asked, leaning forward slightly. “Or can I go back to school yet?”

“I told you you aren’t a prisoner here,” Wyatt said and he was sitting across from Chris, starting to lean forward himself as if to mirror Chris.

“Yeah but you haven’t really shown me that yet,” Chris said. “You don’t even leave the door open.”

“What, are you waiting for a tour?” Wyatt asked.

“Sure,” Chris said and Wyatt huffed out almost a laugh, looking away.

“You can go back to school if that matters so much to you,” he said.

“How?” Chris asked. “Just orb myself there every day?”

“Why not?” Wyatt asked and Chris frowned.

“And the rest of the time?”

“Do what you want,” Wyatt said.

“That’s not very guardian like of you,” Chris said and Wyatt leaned all the way into his space, making Chris tilt back quickly enough he almost upended the chair.

“Stop pushing me just to see how far you can get.”

“You could just tell me how far I’ll get,” Chris replied and Wyatt leaned back.

“Not very far,” he said. But then he turned his head like he was hearing something and disappeared.

Chris hadn’t noticed before that his orb didn’t look like it used to. There was a shadow in all that bright light, though it was not as dark as a Darklighter.

Yet.

-0-

Chris was sixteen and he had always been adaptable.

He orbed himself to school, even if he could barely pay attention to classes. He stopped waiting for Wyatt and started seeking him out, discovering the strange underworld home Wyatt had created for him wasn’t just a single room but an entire suite and Wyatt lived there too.

He started orbing himself around the underworld, because up above didn’t feel much like home anymore either and he was curious.

Which was how he discovered there was a blanket ban on any demon touching him. The first time he encountered a demon that bowed to him instead of attacking he orbed himself away so fast he couldn’t catch his breath like he had actually run away.

“You know that’s not going to last right?” he said to Wyatt that night and Wyatt frowned at him.

“What isn’t?”

“Demons not actually attacking me,” Chris said.

“They won’t if they’re smart,” Wyatt said and it made a shiver curl down Chris’ spine.

“Yeah, but when have you known a demon to be smart?” Chris asked.

“If they hurt you they will answer to me,” Wyatt said and Chris looked away, because the strange thing was things didn’t feel that different yet. He knew the world had changed, that something was fundamentally different about his brother. But for the most part when they spoke it was only the two of them, and Chris could pretend that things hadn’t changed that much really.

Wyatt’s hair was starting to grow out and Chris almost dropped out of school.

They existed that way in a quasi-state of denial for several months. Chris pretended and Wyatt let him.

But then Chris woke up one night, feeling the red-hot pain of sheer rage and he orbed himself to Wyatt before he even thought about it. It had been years since he could feel his brother so clearly, and even more since he had gone to his side automatically.

He appeared in a room full of demons in time to see Wyatt yank a rusty and jagged ax out of his side, tossing it to one side without taking his eyes off the demon whose throat he was crushing with his other hand. Choking the life out of a being was hardly a slow process but none of the other demons were moving and Chris stood shocked and frozen, feeling like his own throat had Wyatt’s hand wrapped around it as he watched like everyone else.

“Anyone else?” Wyatt asked, low and dangerous and the entire room of demons cringed backwards. His side had already healed perfectly, leaving no trace of the ax behind.

“My lord,” a demon murmured, and Chris’ eyes darted away from his brother to realize that all the demons were now staring at _him_.

And now Wyatt was too, his eyes dark and furious. “Chris.”

“I,” Chris started, looking at the demons who were starting to murmur, a mass of malice and then back to Wyatt. “I—I didn’t mean to.”

“Go back,” Wyatt said, voice low and dangerous and Chris flinched back before he orbed himself back to the room.

He stood there for a long minute, in the middle of the floor, panting, realizing he had gone to his brother in his pajamas, sleep ruffled and foolish.

He had grown up watching his mother and her sisters vanquish demons. He had seen dozens of bodies, the innocents they failed to save and even their own. He had held his mother and screamed when he found her on the floor of the manor.

But he found his hand coming up to his throat, because Wyatt’s actions had been calculated, cold, designed for fear and despite everything, Chris had never feared him before.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Wyatt said and Chris dropped his hand abruptly.

“I didn’t mean to,” Chris said. “I woke up feeling—I just felt you.”

“You’re not a Whitelighter,” Wyatt said.

“But I’ve always been able to feel you,” Chris said. “And I used to be able to feel mom. I woke up and I just—”

“Next time,” Wyatt said, still in that flat voice. “Don’t come.”

Chris looked away. “I won’t.”

“They know who you are now,” Wyatt said. “I was trying to keep you from them.”

Chris’s jaw twitched. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Most likely,” Wyatt said and left as silently as he had come, slipping away into the darkness of the underworld, not even bothering to close the door behind himself and Chris stood there for a long time, listening to his own breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

Chris was seventeen and had gotten a lot of practice vanquishing demons. They seemed to come like clockwork ever since he revealed himself to the court of the underworld, exposing Wyatt’s presumably soft underbelly for all to see.

Of course, considering it was eight months later and he had vanquished dozens of demons and Wyatt probably twice as many, he thought _maybe they should stop trying_.

They apparently disagreed.

Wyatt slammed open the door at the sound of the scream, eyes going to Chris and then the pile of ash on the floor. “What?” Chris asked, even though he was leaning against his desk and breathing heavily. “I handled it.”

Wyatt’s eyes flickered back up to him. “Apparently. You’re still relying on potions.”

“Well they’re effective,” Chris said, pushing himself upright.

“Your powers would be effective too,” Wyatt said.

Chris worked his jaw for a moment. “I think I’ll stick with the potions,” he said, because despite the number of demons coming after him, and despite all he had seen since, the sight of Wyatt surrounded by fire and blood crushing the throat of a demon still woke him up sometimes.

Wyatt frowned but dropped the issue.

Chris knew he would just bring it up again soon enough. He always did. Sometimes Chris was surprised Wyatt still let him get away with disagreeing with him.

-0-

Chris was seventeen and he’d dropped out of high school.

Sometimes when Wyatt wasn’t around he snuck out to hunt demons. He spent hours going through the Book of Shadows, had learned dozens of spells and potions, even though he had to keep flipping past any spell that required the Power of Three. There weren’t three Halliwell’s left alive anymore as far as he knew.

Sometimes his old friends called him and he couldn’t begin to know what to say so mostly he never answered. There weren’t many demons he could try and become friends with, but there was a handful and at least he never had to explain his fear or his cuts and bruises to them.

Chris was seventeen and Wyatt introduced him to Bianca.

Rather, Wyatt assigned Bianca to watch him during court events, when Chris had to stand behind Wyatt and make himself both a visible force and a target.

When Wyatt introduced her, Chris looked from her tight-fitting leathers up to Wyatt. “What, am I not doing a good job protecting myself?”

“Not good enough,” Wyatt replied.

“No demon has even touched me in the last month,” Chris protested.

“Be that as it may,” Wyatt said, deadly calm and Chris wondered if there was some plan he was poised to embark on that he didn’t know about. “If you plan on leaving here, she goes with you,” and then he left, orbing out and Chris tried not to stare because Wyatt’s orb had gone from bright blue to sickly grey and now was almost entirely the deep purple of a Darklighter. Chris didn’t like to be reminded of a fact he very well knew.

“So Bianca, huh?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

“I’m not here to be your friend,” she said, eyes narrowed.

“Nah, you’re just here for hire,” Chris said and when she frowned at him he tilted to chin to her arm. “Phoenix symbol. Anything for the money, right?”

“Well, your brother does have plenty of that at least,” Bianca said and Chris blinked at her.

“Right, that makes sense.”

She arched a brow at him, all cold indifference. “You didn’t even know that?”

“I said it made sense,” Chris said, holding his hands out. “I just hadn’t considered it. So how long have you been in the killing for money business?”

And she huffed at him, her eyes narrowed dangerously and Chris almost reminded her that she was being paid to protect him, not actually murder him.

-0-

“Eventually they’re going to notice you’re killing my demons,” Wyatt said, one night when Chris orbed back into his room and nearly jumped out of his skin to find Wyatt sitting there, one leg crossed and his fingers steepled under his chin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chris said and Wyatt looked over at the Book of Shadows, which he had uselessly left open to a vanquishing potion. “That’s not what it looks like?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve managed to drive most of the other witches willing to fight into hiding, brother,” Wyatt said, drawing the last word out while staring at Chris who suddenly found the floor far more interesting.

“You can’t prove it was me,” Chris said.

“I don’t have to,” Wyatt replied, Chris snapping his eyes back up to him. “But I would suggest you either stop or become more subtle about it.”

Chris stared at him. “I’m surprised the second one is still an option,” he said and Wyatt abruptly rose to his feet, making Chris lean back but Wyatt didn’t come for him.

“You may not be a prisoner, Chris, but I expect you not to be this stupid either.”

“I’m not being stupid,” Chris said and Wyatt rolled his eyes at him.

“I’m protecting you as best I can,” Wyatt said, bringing his hands up to hold Chris’ shoulders and Chris felt himself tense. “And yet you insist on making it harder.”

“I can protect myself,” Chris snapped and Wyatt, the bastard, only looked amused. It was only when he noticed the warmth from Wyatt’s hands leeching through the fabric of his jacket that he realized how rarely anyone touched him anymore.

“Chris,” Wyatt said and Chris jerked his gaze away. “Stop over estimating your abilities.”

“Sure, fine,” Chris said, not sure if he wanted Wyatt to leave or not.

But Wyatt did, as usual, leaving Chris alone. For a long time Chris stood there, where his brother had left him before he moved over to the Book of Shadows, rifling through it until he found a spell he remembered his mother and aunts using plenty of times when he was a child.

He placed the candles in a circle and leaned back, looking at the book to make sure he had it right. Closing his eyes he whispered, “Hear these words, Hear my cry, Spirit from the other side, Come to me, I summon thee, Cross now the great divide.”

But when he opened his eyes no one was there.

“This used to work,” he said, leaning back over the book. Repeating the spell, the circle still remained empty. Running a hand through his hair he stared at the empty circle. “Someone, please come,” he whispered because he was still just seventeen and living in the underworld with a brother who could choke the life out of any being he wanted, a father who never came down from the heavens, and everyone else he once called family was dead.

“Please come,” he said again and there were suddenly lights in the circle. Springing to his feet he waited with his heart in his throat, but it wasn’t his mother who looked back at him. It was a dark-haired woman, far younger than his mother had been but after only a shocked moment Chris recognized her as the woman from the book of photos he found under his mother’s bed after she died.

Sometimes Chris had caught her with it but she always was crying when she looked at it so Chris had never asked or gone seeking it out himself. There was one photo of her standing with Piper and Phoebe, up in the attic, the tree sisters close together, but none other were left up on the walls. Her death had left a hole and a silence, and even when the sisters had mentioned her name it usually came with a pained silence immediately afterwards.

It had never felt fair to Chris, but he was still just a kid, and never knew what to say to them.

“Aunt Prue?” he asked, voice breaking and her face crumpled for a moment.

“Chris,” she said. “I—we’ve never met.”

“No,” Chris said, and his throat felt too tight. “No, you never came when mom called you. Sorta like she’s not coming now when I’m calling her.”

“Oh, Chris,” Prue said, still standing in the circle of candles. “She can’t.”

“Because she’s not ready?” Chris asked. “Well tell her to get her ass down here anyway. She’s my mom and it’s been years. I _need_ her.”

“It’s not the same as me,” Prue said and she hesitated, looking down at the circle made by the candles. Seeming to make up her mind she stepped across, jolting as she corporealized for the first time in something like two decades. “She would come if she could,” Prue said and Chris shook his head.

“Then she should come.”

Prue caught him around the shoulders and Chris twitched, because it was so similar to what Wyatt had just done, but then Prue pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him and Chris felt tense and useless in her embrace.

“The demon who killed your mother,” Prue said and Chris started to shake his head. “It shattered her soul.”

“What?” Chris asked, voice pitching high in shock. “That’s not—how is that possible.”

“We’ve been trying to gather the pieces back,” Prue said, voice soft and somehow Chris figured that didn’t happen too often. There was something too sharp in Prue’s eyes, and in the way she moved. “But it’s long going. We’re trying.”

“What about the others?” Chris asked. “Aunt Paige or Aunt Phoebe? I’m not,” he said, his voice starting to break. “I’m not saying I’m not happy you came but why didn’t _they_?”

“Phoebe says she still hates magic,” Prue said. “And Paige—her soul isn’t here either.”

“Where is hers?” Chris asked. He had finally started to accept the embrace, resting his cheek on her shoulder. “She wasn’t killed by what killed mum.”

“It was taken somewhere else,” Prue said.

“Where else can a witch’s soul _go_?” Chris demanded.

“They’re not sure,” Prue said. “But there are other places where souls might go. Grams thinks she might have been taken to Valhalla but we don’t know.”

“So they’re all just gone?” Chris asked.

“For now,” Prue said.

Chris shuddered out a breath. “You know I think I felt better before I knew that.”

He felt Prue shift and sigh against him, like it hurt her too but she drew back placing her hands on either side of Chris’ face when she did. “I may not have known you. I may not be your mother and I will do all I can to find her for you. But while I’m here,” and the corner of her mouth twitched up. “Wanna learn how to hunt demons?”

Chris swallowed before he let his own mouth twitch up. “Yeah, yeah I think that might be good.”

Chris was seventeen when he finally met his final aunt. He was hunted by demons and protected by other ones but he finally had an ally here in the underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm apparently not over Prue or how the show basically made a few lame excuses to why she never came back so we're here to fix that. 
> 
> Also Bianca is about 4 or 5 before Chris is even born and mentions several times that Chris turned her to good, which is why I'm introducing her here this way.


	4. Chapter 4

Wyatt had turned nineteen when he finally drew the Sword out of the Stone and Chris could see the real fear in demon’s eyes the next time Wyatt showed up to one of their rituals with it casually at his side. Those that recognized it were quick to tell all those that did not and later Chris walked into Wyatt’s rooms.

He did that less, even though they were only a few hundred feet from his own. Usually Wyatt was the one coming to find him.

“Why did you wait so long?” he asked, because he could remember their mom joking about it as a kid, before she stopped joking about anything to do with Wyatt. She said he would have to be eighteen first, have lived a normal life, maybe even gotten a pet dog. For some reason the pet dog was always part of the joke, even though they never actually got one.

“Because all power comes at a price,” Wyatt said. “To draw the sword I had to be ready for what it meant.”

Chris swallowed, because Wyatt had been king of the Underworld for two years. “And you expect you need more power now?” he asked and Wyatt just looked at him.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want an answer to, baby brother,” and Chris scowled at him.

But he couldn’t lie and say he did want to know.

-0-

That was when the first letter came.

It sat waiting for him when he walked back into his rooms a few nights later, bright paper almost gleaming against the darkness of the Underworld. At first Chris just stared at it, doubtful of its origins.

But staring at it wasn’t going to offer any explanations so he gingerly picked it up, unfolding the paper and for a long moment he just stared at it before crumping it up and throwing it across the room.

“What is it?” Wyatt asked, because of course he was already in the doorway. Chris wondered if he had already been on his way, or if Chris had somehow called him by accident.

“Nothing,” Chris snapped, but Wyatt already spotted the letter, still gleaming softly and he seemed to realize who it was from the instant he laid his eyes on it. Chris wondered if he was just more aware of what a letter from an Elder looked like, or if he had been getting letters from their father for longer.

Probably, Chris acknowledged bitterly, the latter.

“What did he want?” Wyatt asked.

“He’s worried about you,” Chris said, with all that bitterness leaking into his voice. Wyatt’s eyes flickered from Chris to the letter and back again. “I think he’s wondering what I’m going to do to stop you.”

Chris had been watching Wyatt around his demons enough to recognize the moment he pulled himself in, armor going up as he readied himself for battle. “Is that what he thinks you’re doing?” he asked, voice dropping and Chris’ eyes widened.

“He can think it all he wants,” Chris said, realizing how stupid he was. “It doesn’t make it true.”

“It doesn’t make it untrue, either,” Wyatt said, still in the doorway.

“It’s not,” Chris said, because that was still true.

Even if sometimes he thought it should be. But then again, Wyatt ruled the Underworld with a tight fist, one that kept the demons on a very short leash. Less innocents died, and those demons that did not answer to his brother were the ones Chris hunted. So while he feared for his brother’s soul, perhaps Wyatt had the right of it.

Wyatt looked at him and Chris thought that there was a secret he didn’t know, somewhere in his brother’s gaze. “Think you’ll always trust me like this, baby brother?”

Chris frowned again, because Wyatt only called him that if something was bothering him or if he thought he had a knife to twist into Chris. “I’m not just going to leave you know,” he said, because he had almost even gotten used to this life. It was different, but it wasn’t like living under constant demon attack when in the manor had been that different. They’d already lost everyone so what did it really matter where they lived.

But there was still something in Wyatt’s eyes. “You might,” he said.

-0-

Later Chris would realize Wyatt was warning him. He should have guessed but somehow, he had not imagined just how far Wyatt was going to go.

He knew Wyatt had become king of the Underworld, had been building power all the years he had been sneaking out in his leather jackets and come back with bruised knuckles he should have been able to heal. Chris couldn’t understand it, but the Underworld always sought a ruler, so why not Wyatt? Perhaps in whatever way he thought he was doing _good_ , because he was keeping the demons under control.

Which is how Chris missed Wyatt’s actual ambitions.

Bianca found him first, shimmering into his room even though Chris wasn’t sleeping.

“Your brother,” she started, Chris already bouncing to his feet but she stopped, obviously changing tracts in her head. “Wants you.”

“What happened?” Chris asked.

She paused, struggling to decide what to say. “We think he might have killed the Tribunal.”

“The,” Chris started, trying to place them. “Aren’t—aren’t they the arbitrators of all magic?”

“Yes,” Bianca said and Chris could finally catch the edge of panic around her corners, and Chris understood why Wyatt had gone back for Excalibur.

“What—what would that even mean?” Chris asked, even though he could already guess.

You didn’t kill the Tribunal if you weren’t going after the cleaners, and you didn’t go after the cleaners if you weren’t going to expose magic.

“He wants you,” Bianca said, grabbing his hand to shimmer them both to Wyatt, as if Chris couldn’t have found him himself in a heartbeat. Chris could always find Wyatt, ever since he was a year old. He could find him and be there as soon as he thought it, even when Wyatt didn’t want to be found.

Just, as often as Wyatt didn’t want to be found, Chris didn’t actually want to find him.

But now Bianca brought Chris to a darkened room, lit only by a circle in the floor. There were tables, almost like a court room but there was no one else there, just ash floating through the air as Wyatt sat on one of the tables, Excalibur beside him.

“Wyatt,” Chris said. “You could have just called me.”

Bianca didn’t react to that, just stepped back slightly when Wyatt looked over.

“I wanted you to understand.”

“Wyatt—”

“You know these are the people who stripped our aunt’s powers,” Wyatt continued and Chris’ eyes darted around the room. “They promised her she could earn them back but she never did.”

“Did she even want to?” Chris asked.

“Why would she?” Wyatt asked. “Magic took everything from her.”

“Is that why you went after them?” Chris asked.

“No,” Wyatt said, rising. “Their view of magic and all its potential was… limited. We were never going to agree.”

“Are you planning to expose magic?” Chris asked.

“Yes,” Wyatt said.

“Why?” Chris asked.

“Because I plan on ruling all of it,” Wyatt said, spreading his hands out and Chris could only stare at him. “There is no reason for magic to hide in the shadows, as if it is ashamed of itself.”

“There are reasons we hide,” Chris said slowly.

“There _were_ reasons,” Wyatt replied.

“This is what killed our aunt,” Chris said, because after several visits Prue had slowly opened up about her death, all the reasons it had kept her back and refusing to return to Earth. “We’ve kept magic a secret for centuries. Because it’s always turned on us to expose it. Why do you think you’re going to be any different?”

“Because I have the power to change all of it,” Wyatt said.

“You may control demons, and they may even agree with you,” Chris said, looking over Wyatt’s shoulder at where the Tribunal had once projected their images. “But the rest of the magical world is going to fight you if you do this.”

“Why do you think I finally pulled the sword from the stone?” Wyatt asked and Chris stared at him. The corner of Wyatt’s mouth twisted up. “Do you still trust me?”

Chris stared, starting to understand why Wyatt had wanted Bianca here, in case Chris tried to run. Better here than where the other demons were watching, better with someone at Chris’ back than them alone.

“I think you are choosing a very dangerous path,” Chris said.

“Do you trust me?” Wyatt repeated and Chris thought about their family, witches dead before their time, generation after generation. They died and they died and they died and he looked at Wyatt in the harsh light of the Tribunal’s court room and wondered if Wyatt was setting himself, them both, or just Chris up for more of the same.

But Wyatt, despite ruling demons, and despite the fact he hadn’t touched the Book of Shadows in years as far as Chris knew, still seemed too golden and strong in that moment to fall to all those who had killed them in the past.

“Yes,” Chris said, wondering if it was already a lie.

-0-

When he woke up the next morning there was another letter waiting, sitting on the top of the closed Book of Shadows and Chris pushed himself up on his arms slowly, squinting at it.

“If you can send a letter you could come down and talk to me,” he said, just in case his father was listening on whatever cloud he spent his time on these days.

Leo’s words were panicked, his hand writing loopy with his concern because Wyatt had rocked the entire magical world. He was more afraid of his son than he was for him anymore and like the first letter Chris crumpled it up and threw it against the wall.

“You’re a coward,” he added, because he still hoped his father was listening. “If you want to talk to me, then make the time to come and talk to me! If you’re worried about Wyatt, then so am I! But don’t you dare sit up on high there, and judge us. Not if all you’re going to do is hide where we can’t see you.”

He waited for a moment, feeling the curl of some hope that the letters meant his father cared, that he was listening.

“Leo!” he called, because when his father had just been a Whitelighter he had come to that call.

But there was, as there ever had been during his childhood, only silence and no father.

“Yeah, I didn’t much expect anything from you anyway,” Chris said, picking up the crumpled letter and lighting a candle just to burn it. Wyatt could have torched it with a thought but Chris felt some satisfaction in holding it as it turned to ash.

When Wyatt had been a baby he had summoned a dragon just because he’d wanted to.

This time he summoned a dragon to stand at his back as he told the world exactly who, and what, he was.


	5. Chapter 5

It turned out that despite how tightly Wyatt had held the Underworld, even they were unhappy with him destroying the Tribunal and exposing magic.

“This is not how things are done,” a demon said and Chris recognized him, which meant he had been at Wyatt’s right side for at least a few weeks now, even when Chris didn’t bother to learn their names. Most of the time the demons that got the closest to his brother lived the shortest among of time. He would have thought any of them would have learned but demons were uniquely stupid. They always thought they were going to be the one to achieve what no one else had. It was why so many of them had attacked the Charmed Ones.

But then again, eventually perseverance had won out because there were no more Charmed Ones.

“Just because it is not the way something has been done does not mean we must remain chained to the old ways,” Wyatt said, which was a bit ironic considering he was holding Excalibur when he said it. “Eventually things must change.”

For some reason the demon’s eyes slid over to Chris in that moment, making Chris straighten his spine but just as quickly the demon had looked away again. “Then I suppose we must obey our king.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed, like they all knew this wasn’t the end of it.

But knowing it wasn’t over and hearing the crash of his brother’s failed orb just a few nights later weren’t the same thing.

Chris has been working on an online class on his phone because the Underworld had excellent cell service and he’d decided to try and actually graduate high school after taking a year off when he heard the sound of orbing followed by the crash. Dropping the phone Chris wasn’t even sure what he was running into but Bianca wasn’t there, and he was still a Halliwell.

He found Wyatt flat on the ground outside his door, an arrow in his side. Chris was there in an instant, on his knees beside his brother and he yanked the arrow out, making Wyatt yell in pain.

“What,” Chris started, looking at the arrow. “This is a Darklighter arrow.”

“Astute observation,” Wyatt rasped, one hand pressed to the wound and Chris felt panic bubbling up in his throat.

“Dad!” he yelled, even though Leo had never come for him before.

Wyatt’s free hand reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him down. “What are you calling him for?”

“Because this is Darklighter,” Chris said, still holding the arrow. “The only thing that can heal it is a Whitelighter. You can’t heal yourself from their poison! I mean,” and he looked at the arrow again, waving it around. “How does this even work on you! Your orbs are totally black now, you’re closer to a Darklighter, why is their poison working on you—”

Wyatt almost laughed, but it turned into a cough instead. “Probably because I was born a Whitelighter. Weirdly, there haven’t been that many hybrids out there.”

“That’s why I was calling for dad,” Chris said. “You need a Whitelighter. There’s no other way to save you—”

“You think any Whitelighter would be coming to heal me?” Wyatt asked, not quite trying to laugh again, but his mouth was twisted sardonically through the pain. “They probably are thrilled there’s still a way to kill me.”

“Well I’m not,” Chris said, catching his face, finally dropping the arrow. “You can’t just go and leave me, Wyatt.”

“No Whitelighter is going to come, Chris, and certainly not dad.”

“I’m going to find a way,” Chris started to rise and Wyatt dragged him back down. “Wyatt—”

“No,” Wyatt said. “They’re going to be looking for you.”

“Well they already know where to find me,” Chris said. “You’re not asking me to stay here and just watch you die, are you?”

“Maybe,” Wyatt admitted after a second and Chris scowled at him.

“I just said I’m not going to let you die, I’ll find a way, just let me—”

“You know it’s funny,” Wyatt started and Chris almost demanded to know exactly what was amusing in this sort of situation. “I was starting to wonder if you wouldn’t welcome this too.”

Chris stared at him, because it had only been a few days since Wyatt dragged him to his battlefield to demand if Chris trusted him. “You’re kidding me, Wyatt, come on,” he said. “You’re my brother, you’re the only one I have left. I’m not losing you I refuse.”

He tried to stand again, uncertain where he might go. Maybe to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge to scream until his lungs gave out if Wyatt had that much time. Surely there would be some Whitelighter somewhere who would help, maybe even an Elder. Sure, none had been seen on Earth since the Charmed Ones but surely for Piper’s son—

“Chris,” Wyatt said, still holding on to him.

“I’m not,” Chris started again and Wyatt’s hand twisted harder in the front of the shirt he was wearing.

“Chris,” Wyatt said again. “I’m pretty sure there’s only one Whitelighter who might be willing to help me.”

“Great, give me their name and I’ll—”

“ _Chris_ ,” Wyatt said and Chris froze, leaning over his brother.

“I don’t now how,” he said, panic leaking into his voice again. “I’ve never been able to heal, I’m not like you or—or even Aunt Paige.”

“Chris,” Wyatt said. “Do you love me?”

“What?” Chris asked, frowning at him.

“Do you?” Wyatt repeated, and he was holding himself very still, one hand pressed against his side and the other still holding Chris.

“Of course, I love you,” Chris said, voice breaking. “You’re all I have left. You’re the only one I have left and you’re my _brother_ , I love you more than I,” and he came to a juddering halt, looking down to see his hands glowing gently. “Oh,” he managed and Wyatt, despite everything still managed to smile. “Oh shit, really?” Chris asked.

“How did you think Whitelighters healed?”

“But you’ve always been able to do it,” Chris protested and Wyatt made a soft pained sound, reminding Chris why they were even in this position. “Shit,” Chris said, hands fluttering for a second before he held them over Wyatt’s side, holding his breath until he saw the blood start to disappear, the dark shirt knitting back together and Wyatt let out one long breath before he sagged back down.

“Wyatt,” Chris said, leaning farther over him as Wyatt closed his eyes. “Wyatt, are you okay?”

Wyatt’s hand came back up, trailing down the side of Chris’ face. “I’m fine.”

Chris gave a hollow laugh, dropping his head to Wyatt’s stomach. “Oh sure. You look fine.”

And Wyatt’s hand was at the back of his head, touching his hair and just staying there. “Well, baby brother, looks like you saved me,” and Chris gave another choked laugh, hands tangling up in Wyatt’s shirt. “Didn’t think we’d ever be in this position.”

“Well, serves you right for underestimating me, asshole,” Chris said and his hands were shaking, both from the fear that he came so close to losing Wyatt—the only one he had left—and the slow sinking, bone deep realization of how much exactly he loved his brother. His brother who killed with a casual disregard, who made himself king of the demons and found that wasn’t enough.

This was who Chris loved enough to heal.

He took a shaky breath and let it back out. “Who did this?” he asked.

“Chris,” Wyatt started, and he pushed himself back upright, dislodging Chris from his stomach. “I’ll handle it.”

“Sure you will,” Chris said. “So who did it?”

Wyatt turned his head to stare at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

“You need to keep resting,” Chris said, holding onto Wyatt’s shoulders as if that might have any chance of keeping him still.

“I need to give an answer to this challenge,” Wyatt said.

It was hard to tell which of them was angrier for a moment. “I will take care of it,” Wyatt said, slowly, meeting Chris’ eyes.

“Not if I find them first,” Chris said, and orbed away, seeing Wyatt’s wide eyes dissolve.

It didn’t take long to find the Darklighter at all, as they acted like they had already won, standing on Wyatt’s throne and insisting the king was dead.

The demons all turned their heads, recognizing Chris and stepping back.

“Come to see the new king?” the Darklighter asked, and Chris actually laughed at him.

“You aren’t the new king,” and when the Darlighter shot an arrow at him he waved a hand, watching it clatter away. When the next arrow came, he twisted his hand like his aunt Prue had been teaching him, sending the arrow right back to the Darklighter’s heart. He went up with a scream abruptly cut off by flames and for a second there was complete silence.

“Well, did you think I was the only Halliwell you should have been afraid of?” Wyatt’s voice came from behind him and Chris turned to find him standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest and not at all looking like he had been moments before laying on the floor dying of poison. “Good job, little brother,” Wyatt added and Chris looked away.

He wondered if this might finally erase the image the demons seemed to have of him, with his stupid floppy hair and in his pajamas, looking at his brother like he had never seen him before. He had been sixteen then and he was seventeen now, and when he looked at Wyatt it was with the knowledge that despite everything he loved him enough to save his life.

Later he found himself sitting on the rough-hewn steps leading up to Wyatt’s throne, after Wyatt had been called away somewhere else, never stopping long enough to acknowledge the attempt on his life after Chris had so definitively answered it for him. When he looked up, he found the demon that had been forcing himself closer and closer to Wyatt looking down at him.

“Can I help you?” Chris asked.

“That was an impressive display,” the demon said, wearing a long leather coat and with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, people should know better than to try and kill my brother,” Chris said, barely lifting a shoulder.

“No one here knows what to make of you,” the demon continued. “You stand behind your brother, not saying a word most of the time. You barely even react. We were starting to think you were just a prop.”

“Really?” Chris said and found himself laughing, leaning back. “I’m a Halliwell witch. I think that was a stupid thing to think.”

“Obviously,” the demon replied. “You know, we could probably… assist each other.”

Chris stared at him. “You know I don’t even know your name,” he said. “I don’t bother to learn them. There’s no point.”

That made the demon’s expression twist. “I have no intention of being just another ash pile.”

“I think that’s what they all say,” Chris said and orbed away.

He orbed himself to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge and sat there for a long moment, staring out over the city. The world was still reeling from Wyatt’s revelation, trying to figure out how to react and Wyatt hadn’t yet made his move so Chris just sat there, staring at a city that had no idea what it was going to do.

He could relate.

He stared down at his hands because he too felt shaken to his core, uncertain which way to go or what he was going to do.

He stayed up there as the sun set and into the night, legs crossed and chin on his hands.

“Chris,” Wyatt said, behind him again.

“Didn’t send Bianca?” Chris asked, not turning around.

“No,” Wyatt said. “Chris, come home.”

Chris hesitated another moment, before he finally turned around. “Alright,” he said, and took Wyatt’s hand when he reached for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But VS, you may say, Chris can't heal when he goes back in the past. Stay tuned, because I have accounted for that and Chris' life can never be even half as simple as he hopes it is.


	6. Chapter 6

Chris was seventeen and Wyatt nineteen when Chris finally acknowledged he would have to learn the demon’s name, because somehow after four months he was still alive.

“What sort of name is Jaxar anyway?” Chris complained, Bianca looking sideways at him.

“A demon name,” she said, mild, even though her eyes were constantly scanning the room, looking for anything out of place. Chris thought he would be flattered if he didn’t take a guess at both the threats and pay Wyatt had offered her to protect him.

“You lot are horrific at names,” he said and her eyes flickered to him for a moment as if she was about to protest that. But she didn’t and Chris propped his chin up on his folded fist, watching Jaxar with his head bowed as he talked urgently to Wyatt, who seemed to be paying more attention to anything except him.

“You seem upset that he’s still alive,” Bianca remarked and Chris turned his head up to look at her.

“What?”

“You seem upset that anyone has lasted this long at your brother’s side,” she said and he opened his mouth to protest, except as soon as he did he realized he couldn’t really. “Every leader needs a second.”

“And you think that’s going to be Jaxar?” Chris asked with some disbelief.

“I think it’s going to be whoever Wyatt wants it to be,” Bianca said. “Jaxar is still alive, so for the moment, yes, it seems like it will be him.”

“He’s an idiot,” Chris said.

“He’s alive,” Bianca pointed out as Wyatt finally turned away and approached where Chris was sitting on the steps leading out of the room. It wasn’t quite right to call it a throne room, but there was a throne and whenever Wyatt wanted to hold court in the Underworld they all knew to come here. Even when things had started moving in the world above, Wyatt was still leaning into his powerbase, the demons who followed him before the rest of the world even knew who he was.

“Brother,” Wyatt greeted.

“Done posing for the day?” Chris asked and one of Wyatt’s brows twitched up.

“I am not certain posing is how I would describe it,” he said after a beat. “But yes, baby brother, come along,” and he trailed his hand along the top of Chris’ head as he walked up the stairs. Chris froze, staring straight ahead at all the gathered demons instead of reacting because he had no idea how to react, or what exactly that brief moment had been.

Deciding in the long run, it probably didn’t matter, he pushed himself to his feet and followed his brother, Bianca trailing after the both of them.

-0-

Except it did matter because Wyatt didn’t stop doing it. At random moments, in the small times they had together, he kept reaching out and touching Chris in ways he never had before. A ruffle of his hair there, a touch to his shoulder in passing here, a hand on his back during court.

Wyatt had never been free with anything that might be considered affection before and it made something like unease crawl up Chris’ spine. Wyatt ruled the Underworld and they allowed him because they also feared him.

Demons didn’t show affection or much emotion at all.

Now, not only was Wyatt suddenly offering all the touches he had withheld since they were children and Chris had often inserted himself into Wyatt’s personal space, but he was giving them in full view of the demon court.

At the same time, Wyatt had declared open war on their fellow witches when they opposed him.

“I am going to find a way to expose every witch,” Wyatt said, pacing back and forth when they were alone, Chris watching him.

“You’ve already exposed magic,” Chris said, and then more hesitantly. “You remember that we are witches too, don’t you?”

“Of course I remember,” Wyatt said. “But they oppose me.”

Chris bit his lip before forcing himself to look at his brother again. “You cannot blame them, not for that,” he said and Wyatt came to a stop, turning to stare at him. “You changed their world, upended the old laws.”

“I am their natural born leader,” Wyatt said. “Twice-Blessed, Halliwell witch and Whitelighter.”

“And you rule demons,” Chris shot back. “They will not fall into line behind that.”

“They will if they know what’s good for them,” Wyatt said and strangely, for the years spent in demon court, for the announcement with a projected dragon behind him, Chris had never thought of his brother as the ruler of the world. He had never thought Wyatt’s ambitions all the way through.

“Is that what it’s going to be?” he asked. “Join you or be at war with you?”

“What did you expect it to be?” Wyatt asked.

“Why?” Chris asked. “You are already one of the, if not _the_ most powerful magical being on the planet. Why, why do you have to do this? Isn’t ruling one world enough?”

“It cannot be enough,” Wyatt said and Chris stared at him, shocked.

“Why _not_?”

“Because I need more power,” Wyatt said, stopping his pacing to throw something Chris suspected was a sacred vessel into the wall.

“For what?” Chris asked, all the questions he hadn’t asked for all the months before. “Why are you doing these things, Wyatt? Controlling the Underworld I almost understand, but exposing magic? Declaring war on all those who won’t fall in line? What do you need all this for?”

“Because power is the only thing that will keep safe,” Wyatt said, almost angry.

“That’s crazy,” Chris said and Wyatt whirled on him, and Chris could feel the static in the room change with Wyatt’s anger. “Is this about our family? I know the Halliwell line tends to die young but you’re already powerful enough to protect anyone from just about anything—”

“Not everything,” Wyatt said.

“But you’re actively setting yourself up for people to come after you!” Chris rolled right over him. “King of the Underworld is not known for its security. Declaring war on the other witches? It’s like you’re daring the Elders to come after you—” And Chris had never seen Wyatt’s face twist like that, in utter contempt. “You,” Chris started and could barely say it. “You want the Elders to declare war on you. That’s not very safe.”

“The Elders are old, and stupid, and corrupt,” Wyatt ground out.

“Including our father,” Chris said.

“He’s one of the worst of them, don’t you think?” Wyatt asked. “He’s so blind he can’t see what’s right in front of his face. Not the evils that came for our aunts, for our mother. Not even the corruption in his own ranks. He sees nothing and claims to be worthy of control of the magical world.”

Chris’ jaw dropped. “That—I mean—I don’t—”

“The Elders don’t deserve their titles or their control,” Wyatt said.

“Maybe not, yeah okay, probably not. But you can’t claim you want power for safety in one breath and in the other insist you want to declare outright war on the Elders of all people!”

“I intend to unify the magical world under one banner,” Wyatt said and Chris found his legs giving out. He sat down hard, thankful they were in their chambers and he knew where the nearest chair was.

“The magical world has never been under a single banner,” Chris said. “There’s no way—”

“They will join me or I will destroy them,” Wyatt said and Chris just kept staring at him.

“When—when the fuck did you get such a crazy idea in your head?” he asked. “Have you—has it always been about this?”

“Since before you were born,” Wyatt said and Chris opened his mouth, about to protect Wyatt wasn’t even two years older than he was, but if anyone would have a freakishly early memory, it would be his brother. “See, when I was barely a baby, someone taught me an invaluable lesson. All that really matters in this world is power. It doesn’t matter if it’s good power, or evil power, it’s all just power. And whoever has the most power, is who stays on top.”

“Jesus Christ, Wyatt,” Chris breathed.

Wyatt looked at him, and there was something almost like pity in his expression. “You knew this,” he said, softly. “You always knew some of this. This is who I’ve always been.”

“Yeah,” Chris agreed because even when he hadn’t wanted to see, his brother had been the one sneaking out of the house and coming back with bruises he kept on purpose, and his brother hadn’t cried at any of the funerals they went to as children. His brother had been cold and wild and vicious all at once and Chris had always loved him anyway. He hadn’t even pretended not to notice things, even if he purposefully refused to put the pieces together. “But you never just laid out your plans for total world domination before, either!”

“Because you never wanted to know,” Wyatt said.

“Of course I didn’t want to know, because what you’re saying is crazy,” Chris said, hands flailing uselessly in the air in front of him. “I just honestly thought your power obsession meant you were going to be the family I wasn’t going to lose but now—if you really plan on going after _everyone_ , including the Elders—”

“You’re scared,” Wyatt said and he actually sounded _surprised_.

“For you, yes,” Chris said. “Don’t you remember, you’re all I have left.”

And he said it simply, like the fact it was to him but it still seemed to shake Wyatt who turned away. He took several steps in one direction before turning back around, taking one step toward Chris and stopping again. “You deserve more, you know,” he said finally.

Chris barely stopped a hysterical laugh. “Yeah? More than what? More than you, than this place? More than our bloodstained family history, where we just keep dying? What do I deserve more, Wyatt?”

“Maybe all of it,” Wyatt said. “Certainly, more than this ridiculous hierarchy and their inane demands on us—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Chris said, looking away.

Wyatt was there, just as suddenly, turning his face back around and standing over him. Chris wanted to lean away, to stand up just so he didn’t have to look _quite_ so far up at Wyatt. But instead he stayed there, holding himself still.

“I’m not asking you to fight in any war with me,” Wyatt said, gaze too intent. “I’m not even asking you to agree with me. But I won’t change my mind, either.”

“What happens when you’ve ended this war?” Chris asked. “What happens when you have magic unified under a single banner? Will that be enough for you or is there going to be war after war?”

“Well,” Wyatt said after a beat with a wry smile. “We’ll have to see when we get there,” and then he was gone, most of the way across the room before Chris even realized it. But he didn’t leave, stopping at the door, even as Chris let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Oh, Chris.”

“What?” Chris asked, trying not to be terrified of whatever else Wyatt might want to say to him.

“It’s your birthday in a couple of weeks, isn’t it?” Wyatt asked and Chris found himself gaping at him, almost as surprised by the question as Wyatt’s declaration of war against the Elders and anyone else he felt like.

“It—yes,” he agreed cautiously.

“Let me know if there is anything you want,” Wyatt said and Chris managed not to say any of the first things that came to mind. His family back, a world his brother wasn’t set on destroying, or even just a house with actual windows were all too close to the front of his mind.

“I’ll let you know,” he said finally and Wyatt spent too long a moment considering him before he finally nodded and actually left.

Once he was gone Chris let his head flop against the back of the chair and he spent a long time staring at the rocky ceiling above him. Part of him thought he should try and call Prue, another part thought he should give calling Leo another call just to warn his father that his other son really was coming for him.

But instead he just sat there, letting the knowledge of everything his brother was sink into his bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I remember we only every got one scene between Evil!Wyatt and Chris and we didn't even know they were brothers in it... And honestly that's probably why I'm writing an entire fic about it lol. But we really know so little about adult!Wyatt in general, either his good or bad versions compared to how much we know about Chris.


End file.
